When pigs fly

“Obviously, it’s a hoax,” Rita said, switching out the microphone cover for that furry one that she used when they went somewhere windy.  “But can you imagine if it were real?  I mean what would it mean?”

Quentin sighed.  “It would mean that Nature herself is against my ever getting a real shot at doing real journalism.”

“So, pigs can fly and somehow that’s all about you, huh?”

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